


With Rainy Eyes

by cptnmarvel_ous



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Established Relationship, Kittens, M/M, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 05:40:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8274812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptnmarvel_ous/pseuds/cptnmarvel_ous
Summary: In which, Bucky finds an abandoned kitten.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was completely self-indulgent. Because, kittens. Don't argue with me.
> 
> (Title song: [Emancipator - "With Rainy Eyes")](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c4JcJ0xNlDo)

Mid-November. The time of year in between autumn and winter that seems to drag on for ages. When it’s cold enough to bundle up in layers of coats and scarves, but not yet cold enough for the rain to freeze into snow. Instead, it creates a muddy slush that seeps into your shoes and soaks your socks. All the trees, once ablaze with vibrant hues of color, have shed their leaves and stand bare. Any lonely leaves left behind on their branches are brown and dead.

It’s late in the evening and Bucky is on his way home from the campus library.

He spent the better part of five hours at his favorite study carrel trying to get an essay done ahead of time. When he heard the fat drops of rain begin to beat against the windows and after checking the forecast, he decided he’d be better off heading home now rather than trying to wait out the storm. If he left then, he would still have plenty of time to walk the ten minutes to the apartment before the drizzle became a downpour. (Which was good because, not only did he not have his umbrella with him, his jacket didn't have a hood.) So, he shoved his things into his backpack and bundled up tight. He sent off a quick message to Steve, letting him know he would be home soon, and headed off.

As he walks his usual route, avoiding the main streets and the noisy New York City traffic, he mentally runs through his essay again.

He has the five references he needs, he just needs to cite them; his introduction is fine and he has an idea of how to go about his conclusion; the body needs a little more work, and he definitely needs to expand upon one or two of his bullet points on why Vygotsky’s zone of proximal development is clearly the stronger cognitive development theory; but other than that, he should have it done and turned in by—

What was that?

Bucky stops walking and looks around him. The street is empty and nothing seems out of the ordinary.

Maybe he imagined it. He _has_ been working himself to the bone lately with finals coming up, and he hasn’t eaten a thing since sitting down at the library. Home is just around the corner now and, _fuck_ , he’s really looking forward to leftovers of Steve’s chicken and matzo ball soup from the other night. His boyfriend makes the _fucking best_ —

There it is again.

He hasn’t made it but five feet along the sidewalk when he stops and listens again. The rain is starting to get heavier now and at first he hears nothing but the beat of raindrops on concrete. But then, just as Bucky rattles his head and tells himself that maybe he’s going crazy, he hears it once again. It's much clearer this time. It’s a quiet, soft sound and barely audible over the rain, but it’s there. He's not imagining it. If he didn't know any better, he'd say it was some kind of animal. It’s coming from the alleyway he just passed by. While he really wants to get out of the cold and away from the rain, he can't help his curiosity; it's not like he's getting any drier any time soon, so he might as well.

The alley is dark, but a nearby streetlamp provides just enough light to reveal a sight that breaks Bucky’s heart. Suddenly his wet socks don't feel all that important anymore.

Underneath an old, raggedy umbrella is a cardboard box. Despite the umbrella doing its best to provide what little shelter it can, the bottom of the box is soaked through and starting to break apart.

Inside, wet and shivering in one corner of the box, is a kitten.

Bucky looks around again—into the alleyway, up and down the empty street—a part of him hoping someone is going to magically appear out of the blue and claim the message _in need of a good home_ scrawled in Sharpie on the box is a mistake.

But, of course, there’s no one in sight.

At first, Bucky isn’t sure what to do. He's not sure he can just show up to the apartment with a soaking wet runt of a cat in his arms. He and Steve have never talked about getting a pet before, and he doesn’t think either of them know the first thing about taking care of a cat. They had a fish tank once, but that didn’t go so well. What if Steve doesn't even like cats? From what Bucky knows about his boyfriend, he seems more like a dog person. He's never said anything about _disliking_ them, either, but—still.

However, when the little white kitten looks up at him with its mismatched eyes, one blue and one yellow, and lets out the tiniest of mews, Bucky knows he can’t just leave it there. The storm is only going to get worse. And there's a chance—low, but still a chance—of sleet during the night.

Making little cooing noises, he kneels down and picks the kitten up. She's so small he can hold her in just one hand. He does a quick check—definitely a girl—to make sure there are no injuries and tucks the tiny kitten into his inner coat pocket.

After making sure she has room to breathe, Bucky zips up his coat again and continues walking home. He considers sending Steve a text, but decides against it. He’s only a block away and he’ll find out soon enough. This time as he walks, instead of going through what he needs to do to get his essay done, he starts formulating his explanation to Steve.

But by the time he’s walking up the three flights of stairs and unlocking their apartment door, he’s already forgotten everything he was going to say.

"Stevie? I'm home.".

The blond appears in the threshold of their kitchen, cleaning his hands with a dish towel. "There you are. Any longer and I was going to send out a search party." He waits for Bucky to shrug off his backpack and remove his gloves and scarf before leaning in for a kiss. Thankfully he didn't go in for a hug, or Bucky would have been worried about him squishing the kitten. "Jeez, Buck. You're soaked," he laughs, carding a hand through Bucky's wet hair. "Go get some dry clothes on. I'm heating up the soup now."

He's already heading back to the kitchen when Bucky finally finds his voice again. "Um, Steve?" Steve only responds by turning back around and offering a bright smile. That smile falters a little when Bucky bites his lip and shifts his feet. "I—uh—"

"What is it, Buck?" The blond, being the big dumb worrywart he is, must misunderstand Bucky's hesitation and returns to place strong, reassuring hands on Bucky's shoulders. "Are you okay?"

Bucky opens his mouth to answer, but is cut off by a muffled mew from inside his coat. They both freeze and suddenly Bucky is just _fascinated_ by the crown moulding of their entrance hallway.

"Bucky." Blue eyes narrow and something of a smile twitches at Steve's lips. "Sweetheart. What was that?"

Instead of answering, Bucky unzips his coat and reaches into his pocket. When he pulls out the white kitten, cradling her gently in both hands, he looks up at his boyfriend with what he hopes is with those devastating puppy dog eyes Steve always seems to fall for. Steve, whose own hands have fallen to his sides, is staring at the kitten with a painfully unreadable expression.

Suddenly, the speech Bucky prepared on his way home manages to tumble out of his mouth in a rush of a single breath.

"She was abandoned in a box, Steve! And she was soaking wet and cold and by herself and the storm is only supposed to get worse! What if it freezes over night and she had been left there all alone? I couldn't just leave her there! No one was going to notice her left in an old box by a damn _dumpster_. I barely heard her crying when I was walking by myself! And It only costs sixty dollars more a month to have a pet in this building and I can pay that _easy_."

"Bucky—"

"What was I _supposed_ to do, Steve? Just leave her there and let her die?! It's already cold as shit out there and it's gonna start snowing soon and—and—she's so small a hungry dog or one of those mean raccoons could—Oh, _Stevie_ , please don't make me throw her back outside! I can take care of her, you don't even have to do anything! I'll feed her and clean the litter box and—"

" _Bucky_!"

Bucky sinks his teeth into his bottom lip to shut himself up. He hadn't realized he'd pulled the kitten tight to his chest, nor did he realize Steve was gently cupping his face to wipe away the tears already sliding down his cheeks.

Steve smiles and kisses him, then presses their foreheads together. Bright blue eyes bore into Bucky's and Bucky finds himself calming down a little.

"Of _course_ I'm not going to make you throw her outside, Buck," Steve finally says. "What do you take me for; some kind of monster?" Despite himself, Bucky laughs. Then sniffles and laughs again. Of course he got worked up for nothing. "Lemme see her."

The kitten mews as she's passed over to a new human; Steve's big hands make her look even smaller than she is. Steve scratches behind her ears and underneath her chin and smiles as she starts to purr. "She's got pretty eyes, doesn't she?" Bucky hums in agreement. Those eyes stole his heart, too. "C'mon, let's dry her off."

After they dry her off with a fluffy hand towel, they manage to find a can of tuna that neither of them were going to eat. She sits on the kitchen counter and gobbles up her dinner while Steve and Bucky sit at the table and eat their own. They talk about going to the pet supply store tomorrow; they can ask an employee there about getting her to a vet. She'll need a litter box and a scratching post, food to eat and toys to play with of course. And a collar, Bucky suggests, with her name engraved on the tag.

"What should we name her?" Steve asks.

"Nothing to do with snow," Bucky says pointedly. When Steve cocks his head in a silent question, Bucky elaborates with a shrug, "Too cliché. White cats named Snowball are a dime a dozen."

They toss around a few names—Steve proposes Lily, Bucky counters with Missy—but nothing really seems to stick. Until, as if on cue, there's a crash. The little kitten has managed to hop onto the windowsill above the kitchen sink and knock over, not one, not two but _three_ of the potted herbs they had sitting there to catch the sunlight. She looks over at her new owners and mews with pride then continues to stalk about the countertop.

"Mischievous little shit, isn't she?" Bucky laughs. He'd been meaning to repot those anyway; the basil was starting to look a little sad.

"I've got it," Steve says with a snap of his fingers. When he turns back to Bucky, he's got a shit-eating grin on his face that doesn't leave any room for arguments. "How about Miss Chief."

Miss Chief meows her approval.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is probably going to be the most innocent fic I ever post. 
> 
> I'm on tumblr: @[cptnmarvel-ous](http://www.cptnmarvel-ous.tumblr.com).


End file.
